White Blank Page
by Jcaslcgaiwd
Summary: A year be for Sherlock Holmes met Irene Adler in a Scandal in Belgravia, she lost her husband. He was there and helped her forget.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I am so sorry, guys! I haven't written an Ad!lock in forever. I completely forget I promised you wonderful people more, so that's what I'm doing now. I'm giving you more! Here is the link of the video that gave me the inspiration to this story: index?&desktop_uri=%2F#/watch?p=PLE4vQK8PhNXF0ON0Raaos8j-QLntiEJ5O&feature=plpp&v=Lkw1gP0Zc4Q Now to the story!  
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**Disclaimer: Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss own these characters, not me.**

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Sherlock was sitting on the soft, white couch. Guessing it has to be worth at least six hundred pounds. John sat on his right, sipping his tea quietly. Mycroft sits up strait, talking. Eric next to him seems tense and worried. He should be though. Considering the situation he was in at the moment. The older Holmes opens a suitcase, pulling out a picture and handing it to Sherlock.

"What do you know about this woman?" He asks as Sherlock looks at the familiar image. She had dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a face like an angel. Sherlock already knows who it is.

"Irene Adler." He says simply.

"Yes, Irene Adler." Mycroft replies, smirking slightly. "Dominatrix." The detective is a bit shocked by this statement. "Professionally known as "The Woman." This entire sentence takes Sherlock back in time. To about a year ago.

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Sherlock Holmes turns around, his face grim. He watches the other people leave, tears streaming down their pale faces. He walks around for a few minutes, watching everyone get in their cars and go home. He kicks around a few rocks, bored. Once all the people are gone, he turns around to go home, but the sight he sees almost makes him want to cry.

Irene Adler was sitting in front of her husband's grave, sobbing. James had been good to her, but a drunk driver had torn him away from her. She and the detective had been friends for a while. Actually Sherlock was the one who had introduced Irene to James. He walks over to her, squatting down. She had her head hidden under her folded arms, as if trying to hide her crying from Sherlock.

She hated looking weak, ever. Especially in front if him. Sherlock was just so strong and never showed any weakness. Why couldn't she be more like that? Two soft hands pulls away her arms and she looks deep into those blue vortexes.

"Come on, let's go have dinner." He says with a soft wink. She grins and stands up. The two hail a taxi. Sherlock tells to taxi driver to stop at a rather nice restaurant. Him and Irene take a seat, both silent. It's Sherlock who begins the conversation. "What's next?"

"Hmm?"

"I said, what's next? How do you plan to move on with your life? I mean, no offense to you, but you don't have a job or hardly any money left. Your husband left you with almost nothing." She nods, understanding.

"Well, I was considering moving to Hertfordshire." She takes a sip of her wine and Sherlock thinks carefully about how he was going to word the next sentence.

"Well, um, you can move in with me until you get back in your feet, if you want." She smiles, finding his awkwardness a little entertaining.

"That would be... nice. Thank you." She puts her hand over his and he freezes, unsure of how to react. She pulls away, feeling bad for putting him in a situation like that. Sherlock had never been in a real relationship before so he didn't know how to react to things like that. Or just feelings in general.

They eat their meal, making small talk. Sherlock manages to make Irene laugh a few times, as a way to drift her mind away from her husband. Well, deceased husband. They go to Sherlock's flat, Irene throwing her coat on the rack and falling onto the couch in sheer exhaustion. He watches her chest fall and rise, just staring at her perfect breasts.

Her perfect hair. Her perfect eyes. Her perfect... everything. Yes he did find her interesting and beautiful, but that was because she was smart. Actually, as smart as him almost. That to him was sexy. This was the only women he's ever wanted. Who he's ever wanted to touch or feel something with. Irene opens her eyes, looking at him.

Damn, he was caught staring.

She smiles at him, getting up from the couch. He watches her hips move, her eyes stare, her breasts bounce slightly. She stands in front of him, only a few inches away. He feels like he should kiss her, but he's afraid it may be too soon. She did just barry he husband a few hours earlier. He almost considers leaning in and kissing her, but then she speaks and his moment of opportunity is gone. It had went as fast as it had came.

"So where can I sleep?" She asks and he scratches his head.

"Um, I only have one bed at the moment so you can sleep in mine and I'll take the couch until I get another. Okay?"

"Alright." Sherlock shows her the bedroom and its simple design. A bed and his wooden dresser with a mirror above it. That was pretty much all. He wasn't much of a designer, never finding those sort of things relevant or important. He finds her a rather large t-shirt to wear to bed. It goes halfway down her thigh.

He leaves the room, closing the door behind him. He makes himself a cup of tea laying down on the couch. He just lays there, staring at the ceiling. He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Irene walk up to him, until she had tapped his shoulder and yelled his name a few times.

"You okay?" He asks and she shakes her head, tears in her eyes. "Are you crying?" He stands up, wiping her cheek softly. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I was just thinking about how much I miss James." She answers, hesitating for a moment. "Sherlock, it's so lonely in that room in that huge bed of yours. I don't know how you've dealt with it all of this time."

He shrugs, it was not ever a big issue for him. "I guess I just got used to it."

"Well, I'm not just yet. Would you mind laying with me? It will only be this one night. I promise." Something in her eyes are desperate and innocent. How could he say no? They walk into the bedroom together again,and Irene lays down on the right side. Sherlock hesitates, standing in the doorway. She props herself onto her elbows, raising an eyebrow.

"What's wrong? Have you never slept in a bed with a girl before?" She teases innocently.

"Actually no, I never have before." Her face changes to shock.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." He gives a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his curls.

"Well I won't make you uncomfortable, promise." He gets into the bed, laying above the covers. She closes her eyes, facing him. He stares at her again, prepared to pretend he was actually sleeping then staring at any moment. After fifteen minutes she speaks, startling the detective.

"Thank you for everything, Mr. Holmes." She whispers softly, kissing him on the cheek. She turns the other way, her back to him.

"You're welcome." He whispers back, returning the favor. He doesn't see it, but Irene falls asleep with a smile across her face. Thankful to have Sherlock here for her.

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**I hope chapter one was what you guys were expecting. Trust me it is going to get hotter and sexier like you all requested. Review and chapter two should be pretty soon! ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm so sorry that it took me so long to update, but this story is difficult to write because it has to be perfect. Also this story is not going to be very long. 7 chapters, at the most. So here's chapter two. I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.**

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The next morning Sherlock woke up, Irene gone. He sighs, knowing she's gone. One night,.one bloody night and she was gone! She was just like everyone else he had ever met in his life. They came and then just left him. As if he didn't count, as if he wasn't worth a damn penny. Even his father had left, leaving him with his drunk mother.

The detective gets up, throwing on some clothes. He really didn't car what he looked like. It's not like he had anyone to impress or spend time with. He was alone, like always. He walks into the kitchen, noticing clean dishes and an omelet already made for him. He feels an arm touch his shoulder and he turns, Irene smiling at him.

"Morning. I made you breakfast." She gestures towards the omelet and he sits down. She sits across from him, sipping her coffee. The dark-haired man begins to eat, enjoying the food very much. It was perfectly made and just so fantastic. Irene rambles on about cooking classes she had taken because James had made her.

Sherlock enjoys every minute of it.

Later that afternoon they are sitting on the couch, watching telly. It was a film about a ruthless villain named Khan who went to every extent to save his crew. Sherlock noted that he looked like him a bit. Irene informs him that the movie is called Star Trek. Sherlock makes a mental note to not delete the film because he enjoyed it so much.

It ends and Irene begins speaking.

"So, Sherlock, tell me about yourself. I know you're a detective and all, but what about your childhood?" Oh God, personal questions. He sighs, trying to block out emotions.

"I grew up in the county. My parents had met in a play. It was Hamlet, I believe. They first had my older brother, Mycroft. Then I was born a few years later. I had a younger sister, but she died. Father left afterwords because he was so devastated. Mother began to drink and abuse drugs. When Mycroft went off to college she began to abuse me, blaming me for everything. That's pretty much all."

Irene remains silent, her face full of despair and pity. We're those tears in her eyes?

"What was your sister's name and how did she die? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"No, it's fine." Another deep breath. "Her name had been Adeline. She had blond hair and the most beautiful blue eyes."

"Like yours." Irene chimes in, smiling.

"Yeah, I guess so." Sherlock had never thought of his eyes as beautiful. "We called her Addy for short. It was a nice summer day and she wanted to play outside. I was sick that day so I couldn't play with her. A driver was going down the road, swerving and yelling. He had been very drunk, but we hadn't found that out until later. Well he had hit a deer, landing into our yard. Mother and Father had ran outside as soon as they had heard the crash, but it was too late.

"By the time they had gotten to the wreck, Addy was crushed under the car her blood everywhere. That's what I remember the most: the blood and how much if it their had been. I had wondered how such a little girl had so much blood inside her tiny body. She was already dead by time by the time we had gotten to her."

Irene stares, in shock. She takes Sherlock hand and he doesn't respond, unsure of to exactly. She touches his face, pushing away a curl. Her hand felt so soft and comforting on his face. He hadn't felt comfort in years. He had been distant and awkward, avoiding human interaction as much as possible.

She continues stroking his face, helping the worry and woe wash away. He doesn't know how it happens, but his lips land on hers. She seems shocked at first, but begins to enjoy it. Sherlock lets his lips move with her's, allowing her to do most of the work. The detective's hand intertwines with her's and she smiles. They pull away eventually.

"Don't ever leave me." She whispers, hugging him. "I wish James had treated me as well as you have in the last twenty four hours." Sherlock nods understanding. She had treated him better than the last twenty four hours. This made him smile, knowing she truly cared.

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Sherlock Holmes didn't get sick often and when he did, he hated very minute of it. This time though he had Irene to take care of him. She was kind and patient, even when he wasn't at times. Later that night they were laying on the couch, the telly making back ground noise. Irene was laying next to Sherlock, head on his chest.

He had told her she was going to get sick from being around him so much, but she didn't mind. He played with her hair, twirling it between his fingers. She felt his chest rise and fall slowly, realizing he was asleep. She stares at his face, thinking it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

She brushes his curls from his face, humming softly. She gets up, trying not to wake him. She throws a blanket on him, snuggling next to him once again. The widow lays her head on his chest, tracing her finger against it. After a while she becomes drowsy, her eyelids closing. She kisses Sherlock on the lips.

"Good night, my love." She whispers softly, taking his hand in her's. She may love him or she may not. All she knew was that she wanted to, but their was only on issue: he had to love her first. She couldn't say anything she was one hundred percent sure. She gets closer to him, hands still locked together.

They stay like that until morning.

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**Review because the more reviews I get, the faster I will update!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, guys, this is the last chapter. Aw! I know it sucks, but this is the end of Sherlock and Irene's little romance. Thank you for all who reviewed, favorited, or just read this. I love you all with the deepest parts of my heart.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, unfortunately.**

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Sherlock paced back and forth, running a hand through his curls. Tonight he was going to tell her. After three months watching her, being with her, and falling in love with her. Sherlock Holmes wasn't one to confess these sort of things, but it was true. They had hugged, kissed, and confessed so much to one another in this short amount of time.

They had sex, but only once. It had been the best experience of his life. Just thinking about it made him smile. He hears her coming up the stairs and he stands up, feeling confident. Irene steps into the flat, smiling at him. She jumps into his arms, kissing his cheek.

"How was your shopping trip?" He asks and she shrugs. She begins to put the groceries away, silence in the room. "Irene, can I tell you something."

"Only if I can also and you won't be upset or freak out."

"Of course."

"Then go ahead." She turns to him, giving him her full attention. He takes a deep breath.

"I love you, Irene Adler." Her face changes. He raises an eyebrow,.slightly confused. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's just that I wish I had told you my news first."

"Why, what is it?"

"Sherlock." Beat. "I'm pregnant."

"That's fantastic!" He hugs her, but she doesn't return it. "What happened?"

Another damn beat.

"I aborted the baby." She answers, tears in her eyes. Sherlock feels his heart breaking.

"Why would you do that?" He whispers, devastated.

"Because I'm not ready to be a mother and I don't love you, Sherlock."

"But, what about everything that's happened between us?" He asks desperately, not able accept that this was actually happening. He was half convinced it was a bad dream or something.

"It was nothing, to me at least. You were just a comfort in a time of need, but I'm better now"

"So you're just going to leave me like nothing happened?" He shakes his head, unable to cope. She touches his arm, but he pushes it away.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not." He growls, bearing his teeth. "Get out."

"What?"

"You heard me perfectly well. I said get out, now." She nods, tears in her eyes. She grabs her few bags, slinging them over her shoulder. He watches her, keeping his emotionless veil on. She stands in the door way, hands full. He has his back to her.

"I'm so sorry, Sherlock." Then she leaves without another word. He listens, waiting until he hears her cab leave. Sherlock falls to the floor,everything inside him hurting and dying. He had confessed his love and poured his heart out, but all he got in return was a stab in the back! He closes his eyes, trying to stay calm.

Sherlock doesn't know how long he sits there on the floor, feeling his heart-break and shatter slowly, but he does get up. He walks over to the table, full of his experiments. Sherlock begins to throw his things, smashing others. He destroys all of his possessions, hating himself.

He understands why he never felt or confessed his feelings. Because of this. Because of what he was feeling right now. Hate, anger, hurt, angst, and disappointment. Yes, disappointment. He's been disappointed by practically everyone in his life at least once. Mycroft, his parents, his friends, Lestrade, everyone!

Sherlock stands in the middle of the flat, staring at the mess he's made. The detective falls to the ground again, hands scraped and bleeding, but he couldn't care less. He takes a shaky breath, feeling his face wet with tears.

He was crying because of the woman, Irene Adler. It was all her fault and he had let her trick him. He swore to never let that happen again. Ever. It was really a shame that he was lying to himself, but he didn't know at the moment. If he had he would have never taken the case a year later.

Sherlock Holmes barely made mistakes and when he did they were grave, very grave.

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**A/N: That's the end now! Review and request what future Ad!locks you would like to see.**


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